


when all the stars align

by ninwrites



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Best Friends, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gift Fic, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Mutual Pining, Prom, Romantic Fluff, Supportive Alec Lightwood, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, alec is magnus' safe space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 15:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites
Summary: A journey of two best friends whose feelings run deeper than either of them realise.





	when all the stars align

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blasphemous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasphemous/gifts).



> this is dedicated to my darling yara - I know I gave you a mini gift before, but I'm more than delighted to be able to share this with you today, as well. 
> 
> I don't know where to start - how do I detail in words of eloquence just how much you've come to mean to me over the last six or so months? For someone who calls herself a writer, it is times like this where words fall short of everything I wish I could tell you; you're an amazing person, with strength beyond measure and a true heart of gold, and I wouldn't be the person I am today without your friendship and support.
> 
> You've been there for me during the toughest periods of the last few months, and I can never thank you enough for all that you have done, but I hope that this gift proves to be a start. I love you, so very much <3 
> 
> \--
> 
> full disclosure, I am posting this at about 6am, so please forgive any minor mistakes within this: I aim to go through it better at a more reasonable time. 
> 
> i owe metaphoric hugs and fruit baskets to my darlings [sara](https://twitter.com/ssaralarssons) for being there exactly when I needed her, and of course my dear force sister [mary](https://twitter.com/artistmow) for being both this fic's constant cheerleader and it's hopeful dreamer. I couldn't have done it without you both xx
> 
> \- title from 'you and I' by PVRIS

 

The fact that Alec almost walks into a banner with _INCOMING: PROM_ swirled on the front in cursive, nauseatingly bright letters, seems quite a blatant sign that the upcoming spirited event will not be the best night of his life, as it is proclaimed to be.

 

He doesn’t personally get the hype.

 

  * He doesn’t like dancing. At all. He has two left feet and zero balance as soon as the idea is even considered, and his rhythm, if it can be called that, is awkward at best.



 

  * The idea of big crowds of kids who’ve probably pre-loaded or snuck a flask within their fancy suit jacket who are all more socially stable than Alec, isn’t the most appealing.



 

  * He hates suits.



 

And of course, the biggest reason of all – the one he’ll never admit to.

 

  * He can’t ask the one person he wants to.



 

Alec has more care for his birthday, than he does prom, and he loathes being the centre of attention. Of course, he can’t escape the reminders that are splattered and streaked across the halls and every door he has to push through, because _school spirit_ has a heavier weight than academic performance or equal treatment, even with the prom more than a month away.

 

It’s not a bad school, but all schools have their problems. Idris High just happens to have an unspoken set of rules, a stream of foggy grey mist that nobody dares poke, but that everybody wades through.

 

Everybody but Magnus Bane, his best friend – of course.

 

Magnus has an eloquent flair for the dramatics that would make Shakespeare proud and a brazen finger-to-the-air attitude that would have him pushed into lockers if he wasn’t so out and loud about it. He doesn’t hold himself back, doesn’t let others squash him into a box because he doesn’t have a shape, he’s fluid and endless and beautiful-

 

He’s the best person that Alec knows, and the driving force behind Alec being brave enough to come out to his own, hard-edged conservative parents. It hadn’t gone down smoothly, and there had been a good month where neither of them would look him in the eye, but he _did_ it.

 

He may not be _vocal_ at school, but he knows the truth within himself, and that’s more than he thought he’d ever have the chance to do; he wishes he could repay Magnus back, will spend his entire life trying to thank Magnus for all that he’s done for Alec, but there are some things he can’t.

 

Such as, ask Magnus to prom.

 

* * *

 

“It’s a little obnoxious,” Alec scowls, as two cheerleaders unravel a green-and-white banner. “And gaudy, for that matter.”

 

“It’s enthusiastic,” Magnus corrects, sliding in across the seat from Alec. “Get in the spirit, Alexander, half the year are going to be hiding behind action hero sunglasses at the following Saturday’s game, not to mention the select few who’ll manage to wrap balloons around their wrists and call themselves Mary Poppins – it’s enthralling activity.”

 

“It’s tedious,” Alec laments, poking a straw into his ice coffee carton, because ripping the sides tends to lead to an tsunami of spillage. “The music will be terrible, and far too loud, the chaperones will hover around the boundary making everyone feel awkward, and there’s too much dancing.”

 

Magnus sighs. “You’re just against the idea of group activities.” He glances over, the new silver eyeliner he’s trying out, making his eyes sparkle even more than usual. “I get that dances aren’t your thing, which is fine, but – it’s all just a bit of fun, Alexander.”

 

Alec rolls his eyes. “I get that, I just don’t know why it has to be plastered all over the school. It’s nauseating.”

 

“So is the state of that shirt,” Isabelle states, sliding along the seat next to Magnus, her girlfriend, Maia, knocking shoulders with Alec. “It’s at least six months old, and I think it used to be black.”

 

“So, I wash it,” Alec grumbles. “I have other shirts, I just prefer this one when I have archery practice because it’s easier to move in.”

 

“Of course,” Isabelle nods in understanding, even though everyone at the table knows her opinion was already clearly stated, and unlikely to change with Alec’s admirable yet weak attempt at defending his faded shirt.

 

“Some things don’t change,” Magnus steals a fry from Alec’s plate. “There’s beauty to be found in constancy, Isabelle. Not everyone is suited to an ever-changing lifestyle. We all know that Alexander is averse to change, with fairness.”

 

Alec drops his gaze. There are some things that he wouldn’t mind changing.

 

* * *

   


  


Alec rolls his eyes, when Magnus saunters into his bedroom.

 

“You can knock, you know?”

 

Magnus grins, shutting the door behind him with the crux of his heel, trusting that Alec is more reluctantly bemused than he is annoyed. “I did knock, and your darling sister let me in. The perks of being _best_ friends is that I don’t have to knock coming into your room.”

 

Something flickers across Alec’s eyes. “So much for privacy,” He says, and Magnus lets it go, even though he doesn’t think that is what Alec means.

 

“If you really want me to go, Alexander-“ Magnus raises a hand to his chest in exaggerated dramatics. “Then I will. You aught but simply say so.”

 

Alec looks exasperated, but its fond, and Magnus knows that curving smile better than he knows the differences between DNA and RNA; it’s one of his favourite things.

 

“I’m staying over, by the way.” Magnus announces, hopping onto the bed beside Alec. He lands on his stomach, looking up at Alec on folded arms.

 

“I’m not surprised.” Alec frowns, glancing quickly around the room. “You don’t … have any clothes, though.”

 

Magnus ducks his head down, cheeks warming despite his own fervent insistence that he’s not a blusher. “I thought I could borrow some of yours. We’re practically the same size.”

 

They’re not, not entirely, because Magnus’ shoulders are wider, bigger, a bi-product of puberty, and Alec is tall and lean with muscles built from football practice and archery and track; there’d be a bit of shifting and tugging, even with Alec’s older, larger clothes, but there’s something about wearing them that makes Magnus feel safe, and he needs that right now.

 

“Sure,” Alec pauses, hesitates, and then rests a hand on Magnus’ shoulder. “Hey, is everything okay?”

 

Magnus clenches his eyes shut, just for a moment, just one moment before opening himself up to vulnerability. He trusts Alec, always has; he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

 

“I don’t-“ Magnus swallows, forcing himself to look at Alec – eyes so wide with care and concern that it causes a physical ache in Magnus’ bones. “I don’t want to be home, right now. I don’t – feel safe, there.”

 

He doesn’t say anymore, because he doesn’t need to. Alec knows, Alec knows everything about his life, there’s nothing that Magnus hasn’t told him … well, there’s one thing, but it’s a null-and-void point anyway.

 

“Do you feel safe here?” Alec asks, palm rubbing circles against Magnus’ back.

 

 _With you_ , Magnus thinks. _Always._

 

Out loud, he whispers. “Yes,”

 

Alec nods, palms sweeping in wider cycles against Magnus’ spine. “Good. Then you can stay here as long as you need to.”

 

Magnus shakes his head, rolling onto his side, one hand tucked up beneath his head. The pillow smells of musky deodorant and sweet-citrus shampoo, that tiny heady something beneath sending his heart tripping over itself. Pathetic little thing, it is.

 

“I’m not sure I ever want to go back,” Magnus admits, glancing up at Alec, finding solace in Alec’s kindness and trust.

 

“Then don’t,” Alec states, like it’s that simple. His hand curls around Magnus’ fingers, and it should be awkward, this angle, this conversation, but it’s not – it’s, perfect. “You can stay here. I’ll hide you in my closet so my parents don’t suspect a thing.”

 

“Oh, please.” Magnus pouts. “I spent so long trying to crawl out of that damned thing.”

 

Alec laughs, a broken-off sound, as though he’s worried that he shouldn’t be laughing, but can’t stop himself from it either, and it’s all Magnus needs to join in. It feels good, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders; it’s temporary, he knows, because life is rarely so kind as to give him anything without taking it away again eventually, but he doesn’t want to think about the future.

 

He doesn’t even want to think about tomorrow, or whether they’ll have pizza tonight, or even if Alec will let him slip into the same bed and hog all the covers because he’s a known bandit of warmth; he just, wants to exist, in the moment, with Alec drawing shapes against his shirt, and babbling on even though he’s not good at casual conversation, all because he knows it’s what Magnus needs.

 

Magnus falls asleep, like that, moments before Alec presses a kiss to his forehead, and stares at him with a determinedly sad gaze, one that tells the world he’d burn it all down for Magnus’ happiness, that he’d do anything for the boy he loves, even if he could never tell him why.

 

* * *

   


 

Magnus does go home, a few days later, and Alec’s heart twists in tighter knots with each step that takes Magnus further away from the front door. They have school tomorrow, and he knows that Magnus can’t _actually_ live in his closet, but he was never told why Magnus doesn’t want to be at home, and it kills Alec to know he can’t save his best friend because he doesn’t know the form of the monster he’s supposed to fight.

 

It’s in his name. Alexander. _Protector of men._ He’s always been the one that his siblings turn to, and being an older brother with that kind of linguistic complex bearing on his shoulders has lead him to take the mantle with determination; he hates seeing people that he loves, hurt or in trouble or distress.

 

Magnus is all of those things, and Alec can’t save him from it.

 

* * *

 

Magnus isn’t in first period, nor second or third or fourth, and Alec is debating on whether to skip his last period entirely and just head to Magnus’ house, when his phone buzzes.

 

His heart stops, and then starts again.

 

** Magnus: **

 

_Hey. Meet me in Tokyo?_

It’s their codeword, for the roof of the school; technically, they’re not really supposed to be up there, but the teachers don’t supervise and Magnus knows how to jig the lock without interfering with the sign plastered across the front.

 

Magnus nicknamed it, because he’s always wanted to go to Tokyo, and he finds solace in the notion that if you wish for something hard enough, it will come true. Alec, whilst not much of a believer, isn’t one for crushing dreams either.

 

It’s their place, their thing, and the fact that nobody else seems to know about it is even more of a reason for it to be special and sacred, and because of that it’s not somewhere they visit often. If Magnus wants Alec to meet him there, then something big has, or is going to happen.

 

Alec feels a little ill.

 

Alec sneaks past the caretaker’s office, ducking into the stairwell off to the side, his footsteps careful and light. The door to the rooftop is already open when he reaches the top, held aside with the help of a surprisingly heavy and oddly-shaped rock.

 

Magnus is standing against the boundary, sleeved-hands gripping the stone bannister; it’s lunch, so their trespassing is safe from authoritative eyes, but getting detention is the last thing on Alec’s mind.

 

Magnus is wearing a long, stretched sweater – one that Alec recognises as his own, having lent it to Magnus _weeks_ ago – and it’s tight around his built shoulders but he’s pulling tighter, curved against the edge of the building.

 

It hurts Alec, to see Magnus hurting.

 

“Tokyo’s looking a bit overcast,” Magnus declares, nodding towards the cloudy sky above their heads. It won’t rain, it just wants to look like it.

 

“Magnus,” Alec shakes his head, kicking the rock away to let the door slam shut behind him. “What’s wrong?”

 

Magnus’ back straightens, his hair wisping out from his forehead. Alec’s heart clenches inside his chest, an iron claw squeezing the very composure out with every scattered beat. There’s a bruise, mottled purple and green beneath his right eye, thin red lacerations scratched down his left cheek, visible when he reluctantly turns to face Alec.

 

 _“Magnus,”_ It feels like the ground fractures beneath Alec’s feet. He can’t seem to form anymore words, can’t speak past the lump in his throat, because Magnus is hurt and Alec couldn’t save him.

 

“This isn’t your fault,” Magnus stresses, wringing his hands in front of him, still caught in the sleeves of the sweater. “I mouthed off at mom’s new boyfriend, he already hates me…”

 

Alec isn’t sure if he wants to scream, or cry, or just kidnap Magnus and take him away somewhere he’ll never be in pain again. “Where are you hurt?” He asks, instead, because he can’t think of somewhere to take Magnus where they won’t be found.

 

“It’s just superficial, Alec-“

 

Alec’s nails dig crescents into his palms. “Where,” He grits his back teeth. Magnus hasn’t done anything wrong, he isn’t the one that Alec is angry at. “Where are you hurt?”

 

Magnus sighs, casting his gaze towards the rolling skies before pulling his sleeves up to his elbows. There are finger-shaped bruises on the inside of Magnus’ wrist, as though someone had grabbed him so tightly it left a physical imprint behind; Alec wishes that it had been a simple cold that had kept Magnus from his early classes, just something, anything that means his best friend isn’t being-

 

“I don’t want to scare you,” Magnus whispers. “I’m fine, really. But I promised you a long time ago, that I wouldn’t keep anything from you-“ Something sour twists Magnus’ expression, but Alec is distracted by his own selfish guilt. “And the only way to keep this from you would be to keep myself away from you, and I can’t … I can’t,”

  
“I know.” Alec says, because he can’t live without Magnus either. “We’ll fix this, okay, we’ll get you cleaned up, and you can stay at my house – hell, you can move in, it’s not as though Mom and Dad will notice; anything that protects you from this happening again.”

 

“One step at a time,” Magnus hangs his head, fingers twitching by his sides. “I could really go for something to eat, I think the last time I ate was … nearly a day ago.”

 

“Food I can sort out,” Alec says, relieved that there’s _something_ he can do to help. “Is there anything else?”

 

Magnus glances up, the bruise beneath his eye shy and raised. “I really need a hug,”

 

“That,” Alec declares, rushing forward. “Is something you never have to ask for.”

 

* * *

 

Magnus doesn’t argue when Alec takes his hand at the bottom of the stairs, and leads him out of the school; Isabelle will collect his stuff, and Jace can help carry them home after school has ended for the day. His only priority lies with Magnus.

 

The walk home isn’t long, but there is weight to the unspoken. Alec lets the silence roll itself out, finding solace in the warmth of Magnus’ palm pressed to his own, comfort in the squeeze that Magnus offers in answer of Alec’s own questioning one.

 

“Have a seat,” Alec says, once they’re past the front doors, gesturing to the kitchen bench. “I’ll get you a drink.”

 

Magnus doesn’t say anything, just nods, perching himself on the bar stool with a slight wince. Alec pretends he doesn’t see, hiding his pain behind a blank mask; the last thing Magnus needs is to feel awkward, or for his injuries to be pointed out.

 

Although it isn’t, Alec knows that Magnus would see it as a weakness, and it isn’t the right mood for arguing.

 

Alec hands Magnus a tall glass of water, cooled by the floating ice chips, and a packet of choc-raspberry cookies he found hidden in the cupboard. Magnus whispers thank you, and Alec nods, already rushing off to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

 

He’s well-versed in the treatments for cuts and bruises, having looked after Isabelle in her adventurous stage, where she’d traipse out to the garden and get her hands scratched by rose thorns trying to carefully catch an orange lady bird, and Jace, from the very first day that he was adopted.

 

The circumstances this time are different though, and when Alec shuts the cabinet door, he can’t help but be starkly aware of how pale his skin is, fear having stolen the very colour from his cheeks.

 

He taps his cheekbones, urging the blood to rise because he’ll only scare Magnus more if he walks back out there looking like a ghost. His feelings, his own fear isn’t what matters at the moment.

 

Alec scoops up the medical supplies and hurries back to the kitchen. Magnus is munching, silently on a cookie, his free hand clenched into a fist on the bench. Alec smiles, gently, when Magnus lifts his head, and asks him to swing the chair out.

 

“This might sting,” He says, knowing full well it will, and hating it all the same. “But I’ll try to be careful.”

 

“Alexander,” Magnus sighs, as Alec raises an antiseptic-soaked cotton to his cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

“Yes.” Alec’s gaze never wavers. “I do.”

 

* * *

 

Alec is careful around Magnus, tiptoeing as though afraid the ground is ice, one misstep from breaking beneath him. It’s sweet, albeit infuriating.

 

Magnus isn’t fragile, and he _hates_ feeling weak, hates pity, even when he knows it isn’t meant to be expressed that way. Alec only cares, but he cares too much, and Magnus is drowning.

 

It doesn’t help, that every warm squeeze against his shoulder, every brush of fingers against his cheek, every scattered glance of worry sent his way is nothing more than a painful reminder of all he cannot have.

 

It’s ridiculous, and he’s never had a crush last this long; but maybe, a tiny voice reasons, maybe that’s because it is Alec, and maybe it isn’t just a crush. A crush is fluttering butterflies and blushing cheeks, it’s not aching for the person’s very presence, it’s not being attuned to their every, _minute_ movement, their very wavelength of emotion.

 

A crush is stifling, but not suffocating. Magnus feels like he can’t breathe when Alec isn’t there, and that’s – it’s not healthy. It’s pathetic. And Alec is none the wiser, because he can’t be.

 

Magnus refuses to lose his best friend, especially over something as inane as _feelings._

 

* * *

 

“I was thinking of putting on a movie?” Alec glances over his shoulder. Magnus pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, hunched against the headboard of Alec’s bed; they’d given control over the main living area to Alec’s siblings, in part for the privacy that being huddled in the bedroom would provide Magnus, especially.

 

“Sure.” Magnus lets a tiny smile pick up the corner of his mouth. “So long as it’s Pirates.”

 

Alec rolls his eyes, already searching through his standing rack of DVD’s. “I still can’t believe that is your favourite movie. It’s so far from your usual genre.”

 

Magnus shrugs, curling his fingers in the edge of the cotton navy blanket, faded with age but still soft enough to offer comfort and warmth. “Tastes vary. I like the action.”

 

“You like Elizabeth,” Alec points out, popping open the DVD case.

 

Magnus huffs. “Well, you can’t tell me that you don’t have a crush on William.”

 

The DVD player slides open with a low whir. “Everyone has at least a tiny crush on Will Turner,” Alec acknowledges. It’s still a new thing, his being so comfortable with himself, and his sexuality, with being so open about celebrity crushes.

 

It’s nice, that they can share it, but the selfishly vocal part of Magnus can’t help but wish for a bit more.

 

Alec ducks out of the room with a curt wave, returning barely ten minutes later with two cans of soda and a giant plastic bowl of popcorn. It’s a requirement they’d established early in their friendship, popcorn with movies, and it’s heart-warming to see that some traditions never change.

 

“Scoot over,” Alec insists. “ I know your shoulders take up the landmass of an estate but I’m sure we can both fit if we try hard enough.”

 

“You have legs for miles,” Magnus rolls his eyes, shifting over to give Alec more room. “I’d be more worried that you’ll stick out at the ends and trip me over when I get up to leave the room.”

 

Alec glances over, quiet for a pause too long. “Maybe you should just never leave?”

 

The only audible sound is the roaring thud of Magnus’ heartbeat against his own ribs, and then Alec is clearing his throat and averting his gaze, ears fire-hydrant red, and all that Magnus can mutter back is “if only”.

 

It’s too much of a dream too come true. Alec is his friend, and only that, and as much as he’d love to hide away in the Lightwood manor forever, he’ll have to return home eventually. The longer he’s away, the worse it will probably be for  him.

 

His mother’s boyfriend has been around, apparently, for quite a while now, but it’s only during the past few weeks that he’s made an integration into _Magnus’_ life, and Magnus – well. Magnus hates him with every burning fibre of his being, but that doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t have power in their household.

 

He’s not _man enough_ , apparently.

 

He’s man enough to flush the boyfriend’s cigarette’s down the toilet, he’s man enough to bury his lighters in the backyard and the lock the deadbolt on the front door when he’s the only one at home.

 

Magnus’ shoulders cower forward, the weight of a metaphorical anvil crushing him; he’s never had the easiest home life, but it’s also never gotten to the point where he’s seriously considering taking Alec up on his offer to stay here indefinitely.

****

Magnus can’t, he knows that he can’t, but by every celestial being who’s willing to give a damn, he seriously wants to. 

 

Before Magnus’ thoughts can spiral any darker, they’re scattered completely, petals in the wind; Alec pulls back, lips a faint pressure against Magnus’ temple.

 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Alec whispers. “Just, enjoy the movie. Give yourself a break, okay? You’re here, and you’re safe, and whilst the movie plays we can pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

 

“Just us?” Magnus whispers, hating how laden the question is.

 

Alec licks his bottom lip, then nods. “Yeah,” He replies, voice frail. “If that’s what you want?”

 

 _It’s always what I want_ , Magnus wants to say, his heart strings twisting in painful knots behind his ribs. Instead, he holds his breath and lowers his head against Alec’s shoulder, reaching down to lace his fingers with one of Alec’s hands.

 

The air is crackling and electric, but beneath the surface is a comfort that is familiar and sweet, and exactly what Magnus needs without quite understanding it.

 

Or perhaps, he considers, as Alec’s thumb rubs circles against the back of Magnus’ hand; perhaps it’s just _Alec_ , that he needs.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Isabelle nudges Magnus’ foot beneath the table, arching a curious eyebrow once Alec has left to join the lunch queue. “Prom is coming up soon. Have any idea who you might ask to accompany you?”

 

Magnus glances over his shoulder without conscious thought, towards the tray-area, where Alec is rocking back and forth on his heels, his height already a stark difference despite his only being a few inches above average.

 

He inhales, deeply, catching Isabelle’s unwavering gaze. “Perhaps.” He says, knowing he won’t be able to get anything past Isabelle, and all the same, not having much of a desire to.

 

He wants to ask Alec to the prom, he’s been mulling over the idea for days now, but his uncertainty is mixing with an anxiety that is rampant and his mind won’t let him feel safe in the notion that Alec might say yes.

 

It’s a gamble, for many reasons; there’s admitting his feelings to Alec, possibly getting his heart broken and his friendship ruined, let alone the fact that Alec isn’t exactly the biggest fan of dancing and holds quite the grudge towards the mere event.

 

The only thing keeping Magnus from abandoning all hope is the stubborn, wildfire streak inside of him that won’t give up without a fight. The least he can do is ask Alec.

 

“I think he’d say yes,” Isabelle comments, stirring her iced tea. “Alec. If you asked him to prom, I think he’d say yes.”

 

Magnus’ heart jumps. They’re the only ones at the table, until Alec gets back, but the space around them feels stifling. “How can you be so sure?”

 

Isabelle hums, something sparkling in her dark eyes that speaks to a wisdom beyond her years. “Admittedly, I don’t have the power to read my Alec’s mind, which is usually a good thing, but I do have a good sense of who he is, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my brother-“

 

Isabelle purses her lips, a vulnerability held within her gaze that is near-enough to frighten Magnus. “He loves you, Magnus.”

 

Magnus has a very distinct memory of skipping stones across a lake near his old home, back when it was just himself and his mother, and they didn’t need nor want anybody but themselves; he remembers the sensation of watching the stone sink beneath the rippling water, never to be seen again, yet all the while dispelling water and space as it went.

 

It is, he imagines, a very similar sensation to that which grips him when Isabelle’s confession reaches his ears.

 

“He,” Magnus’ jaw is working in circles but he can’t seem  to form any words of substance. “He what?”

 

Isabelle’s smile is considerate, and sympathetic. “He loves you.” She repeats. “And I know that you love him, too.”

 

Magnus doesn’t jump on the offensive, it would after all be rather counterproductive, but he does just stare at Isabelle for a few seconds longer than socially acceptable. “Is it obvious?” He asks, voice little more than a fragile whisper.

 

Isabelle shrugs. “To me,” She admits, reaching out to wrap her hand around his wrist. “But I’ve known Alec my entire life, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he is when you’re around; just as I haven’t seen you smile half as much as you do when Alec walks into the room. If it’s not love, then I don’t know what love is.”

 

“Aren’t we-“ Magnus sighs. “Aren’t we too young, though? To be in love, to think that we even know what love is?”

 

Isabelle squeezes his hand. “It’s not a quota you have to fill, Magnus, it’s just … it’s love. If you’re in love, I think, you just know. There’s no other way to describe it. Do you think you’re in love?”

 

Magnus tracks Alec’s tall figure as he nears the end of the queue, warms at the bright smile that Alec shoots his way, when Alec notices that he’s looking.

 

“Yes,” Magnus looks back to Isabelle, who to her merit appears to already know his answer. “Yes, I am.”

 

* * *

  


Alec’s at his desk, racking his mind for the definitions of his biology homework without looking to his vocab list, when there’s a pitter-patter against his window, too sharp to be rain drops, more-so considering the glaringly bright rays of sun pouring through his open curtains.

 

It continues for a few minutes, before the rattling becomes more frustrating than his headache, and he pushes his desk chair back with a tired exasperation. He’s not altogether surprised by what he finds when he gets to the window; it’s hard to be surprised, with Magnus Bane as his best friend.

 

“This isn’t high school musical four,” Alec states, pushing up his window. “I don’t even have a balcony.”

 

Magnus grins, the sun a dimmer light in comparison, highlighting the gold tips of his carefully styled hair. “Why would you have a balcony?” He replies. “You’re eighteen. That’s a ridiculous notion. You shouldn’t have a balcony until at least twenty-five.”

 

“Twenty-five?”

 

“At least.”

 

Alec leans out his window, careful not to knock his head against the top of the window frame. “Alright Mr No-Balcony, what are you doing then?”

 

Magnus bends to one knee, his arm sweeping out in a grand gesture. “Re-enacting Romeo and Juliet? _Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon-_ “

 

Alec, much to his own chagrin, chuckles lightly. “Come on, I’m serious. What are you doing Magnus?”

 

Magnus hasn’t stood up, still kneeling in the damp grass that had only been watered an hour or so before; he doesn’t seem fazed, despite the fact his pants are probably soaked, and it throws Alec off a bit.

 

“Okay, it’s not as cheesy – or creepy – as Romeo and Juliet, I’ll admit that my standards are a little higher.” Magnus’ gaze locks with Alec’s, and the distance between them becomes null-and-void, because Alec can see every inflection of colour in Magnus’ eyes, a shiver racing down his spine when Magnus licks his bottom lip, a nervous tick he’s never shaken.

 

“Alexander,” Magnus smiles. “Gideon.” Alec’s heart stops beating. “Lightwood.”

 

Alec’s hands wrap around the edge of the window frame, knuckles as white as the paint his nails are chipping off, and he’s not sure if he can’t breathe because it’s all too much or because the air has literally been stolen from his lungs.

 

“Magnus,” He whispers, not even certain that Magnus can hear.

Magnus wipes a thumb beneath his eyes, his other hand still spread wide. “I thought about how I’d do this, I had lists and pros and cons and elaborate plans but – it’s you, and I realised that I don’t need a fancy _prom-posal_ where I get your sister to blindfold you and choreograph a flash mob in the school cafeteria, I just – need you.”

 

Alec’s hands are shaking, pushed against the edge of the window sill, his equilibrium teetering. Things like this, don’t happen to him, he harbours his crush deep inside his tattered heart and doesn’t let any of it out, he doesn’t get – he doesn’t get asked to _prom_.

 

“Alexander Lightwood,” Magnus’s eyes are glittering, or maybe that’s just Alec’s stubborn tears trying to fight their way through. “Even though you’re kind of against the very idea of it, will you do me the honour of being my date to the prom?”

 

Alec lifts his hand, covering his mouth as his bottom lip quivers. He wouldn’t believe it, if he didn’t see Magnus kneeling on his damp front lawn, if he didn’t have complete trust in his best friend, that he’d never lie about something so significant.

 

“I should clarify,” Magnus adds, hesitantly. “I am not asking you as a friend, although I do hope we can still remain this close. I am asking you … within a romantic setting.”

 

Alec’s nodding before he even realises, because he hasn’t answered Magnus yet but the answer is yes, of course it is, it’s always a yes where Magnus is concerned. _God_ , Alec’s practically been in love with him since the day they met, he-

 

“You have?”

 

Alec, quite genuinely, believes that falling from the window sill like Sherlock in The Reichenbach Fall, is now his only option. Clearly, he’s embarrassed himself far past the limits of human survival, blurting out what he has.

 

“Alec,” Magnus’ is grinning from ear to ear. “Meet me at the front door, please.”

 

Alec frowns, but pulls back from the window regardless, because he’d do anything for Magnus, and besides, he’s already confessed his feelings now, he can’t exactly take them back; a big part of him doesn’t even want to.

 

He shuts the window, tugging on the closest boots he can find before trudging down the stairs at a pace nearly quick enough to send him tumbling, footsteps resounding against the carpet, his momentum almost sending him flying through the front door as he yanks it open.

 

Magnus is there, on the other side, real and beautiful, and now he’s standing but he has a yellow tulip in hand; _that’s new_ Alec thinks, at first, then _that’s from mom’s garden._ He laughs, a bubbling sound and he can’t help it, nor does he want to.

 

“I may have commandeered this,” Magnus admits, handing the flower over. “But Google said that yellow tulips mean ‘sunshine’ and – that’s how you make me feel, so it only seemed fitting.”

 

Alec’s thumb brushes across the bright petals, before carefully tucking it in the pocket of his jacket. “Thanks?” He can’t speak above a whisper, isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do know. There’s not exactly a handbook, or unspoken societal protocol about what to do in the given situation.

 

“You’re welcome,” Magnus tips his head, his thumb worrying along his index finger. He takes a deep breath, gaze flickering across Alec’s face, too quick for him to keep track of, and then his hand is cupping Alec’s cheek and suddenly the world just _stops_.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Magnus asks, apprehension tripping along his tone.

 

“Always,” Alec replies, before taking the first step himself. Magnus’ fingers are hesitant against his cheek, but his lips have no such problem, pressing against Alec’s with care and finesse; when the tip of his tongue brushes against the corner of Alec’s mouth, Alec feels his knees weaken.

 

They pull apart, a few seconds later, or perhaps hours who is Alec to say? Magnus’ cheeks are pink, Alec’s are aching from smiling so wide, and there’s something new, something elevated and electric crackling in the air between them.

 

Magnus’ index finger catches the corner of Alec’s mouth, his eyes glittering like stars. “I love you, too.” He sighs, with inverted disbelief. “I can’t believe I forgot to mention that. Oh my god, I’m an idiot.”

 

Alec kisses Magnus’ cheek, then his forehead and the tip of his nose, because Magnus is cute and now he _can_. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a dork, yes, but an adorable one.”

 

Magnus’ answering smile is dizzying. “An adorable dork who _you_ love.”

 

Alec shrugs. “Maybe I’m the idiot.”

 

He draws Magnus into another kiss before he can reply, one hand slipping beneath Magnus’ leather jacket, the other tugging him close by the loop of his belt. It’s warm and soft and messy because neither of them can stop smiling, and not even the thought of having to dance at prom scares Alec, because he’ll bedancing with _Magnus_.

 

Who _loves_ him.

 

* * *

  


   


Alec is pacing, his sleek new dress shoes no-doubt wearing the tread of the carpet beneath his feet, but he can’t stop, needs an outlet for the restless energy inside of him.

 

It’s prom night. Magnus is taking him to prom.

 

Technically, Magnus is just on the other side of the door, in Isabelle’s room where she’s perfecting his makeup; apparently it’s quite a big deal, to Isabelle, that the reveal of each other’s respective outfits is a surprise.

 

Magnus had reminded her it was prom, not a wedding; Isabelle had winked, and Alec’s cheeks had flushed red so quickly he surprised himself at even being able to keep his balance. As it is, he’s now been banished to his room, left to his own thoughts and devices.

 

He’s excited, surprisingly, although that is probably just because he’s getting to go _with_ Magnus, as a couple, and the notion that they’re together still feels more like a dream than anything else.

 

He’s terrified, about the dancing part especially, and there’s a humming voice in the back of his mind, incessantly pointing out that this is the first time he’ll be more than just _out_ in the school, but truly open about it - he doesn’t want to let the fear of what might happen take away from the enjoyment of what will.

 

This is his night, his and Magnus’, and that is all Alec wants to focus on.

 

Alec fiddles with the cuffs of his dark gold suit jacket – Isabelle had helped him picked out, insisting that the colour brought out his eyes, that Magnus would love it; the navy pants are more his usual style, but the entire night is one big step out of his comfort zone, so Alec doesn’t see the harm in making the leap worth it.

 

It’s one night. It’s a _special_ night. He can stand to make a few exceptions.

 

Alec runs a hand through his hair, trying to sweep the extra strands away from falling into his eyes. His fingers are tremoring a little, pressed against his warm forehead – he hadn’t thought that he was nervous, but the butterflies in his stomach are armed with blades and he feels a little like throwing up.

 

Fortunately, the door opens that very second, saving Alec from the embarrassment.

 

“Wow.”

 

He’s lucky to manage a whole syllable. Magnus looks – incredible. Beyond that, there are no _words_ for how good Magnus looks. His suit jacket is an almost-velvet cobalt, patterned with silhouettes of roses and thorns, the lapels a matching, gleaming black, beneath which rests a dusty pink shirt, adorned with a tie that is suspiciously close in colour to Alec’s own suit.

 

“I was just about to say the same,” Magnus grins, his eyes sparkling more than the gold liner beneath them. “You look – stunning, Alexander.”

 

Isabelle pokes her head around the door. “You guys can have five minutes to gush over each other’s outfits if you want enough time for cheesy couple photos downstairs.”

 

She winks, almost conspiratorially, and then the door is shutting behind Magnus, leaving them alone, together, the air in the room growing warmer with every second. They stand there, just staring at each other, neither of them moving closer despite the distance being little more than an arm’s length between them.

 

“Sorry,” Magnus laughs, softly. “You’re just – Alexander, you look … that suit, it’s-“

 

Alec inches closer, smiling despite his nerves. “You’re breathtaking, Magnus. I can’t believe this is actually happening, but you looking like a walking masterpiece is nothing new.”

 

Magnus’ cheeks flush bright – there’s still a slight fade of bruises on his cheeks, lines marking his cheek from where the cuts are healing, but Isabelle’s prowess with a brush does not go unnoticed. If Alec wasn’t aware of exactly where the injuries had occurred, he doubts he’d even be able to detect the difference now.

 

“I love you,” He whispers, raising a hand to straighten out Alec’s gold bowtie. “Thank you for coming to this, as my date.”

 

Alec grins, curling his fingers in the lapels of Magnus’ suit. “I’m not just your date, though, am I?”

 

Magnus inclines his head, his heart picking up speed beneath Alec’s touch. “Aren’t you?”

 

Alec’s gaze flickers to Magnus’ lips, and then back up. They’ve kissed a few times, nothing more heated than a few minutes can contain, but there’s something irresistible about the way Alec’s eyes darken, as though his entire focus is centred on Magnus, and only him.

 

“I was under the impression that we were already dating,” Alec brushes his nose against the tip of Magnus’. “Does that mean I shouldn’t call you my boyfriend when I brag about you?”

 

Magnus smiles, the edge catching the corner of Alec’s mouth. “You brag about me?”

 

Alec rolls his eyes, though he doesn’t pull away. “I’m not a fool. I know when I have something good, that I should be proud of. You are that thing.”

 

Magnus surges forward, kissing Alec with every ounce of passion and love he can summon, because sometimes words just aren’t enough. It’s worth it, for the slight noise that sounds at the back of Alec’s throat, and the gentle way he pulls Magnus forward for more – it’s even worth the mild, kind-hearted chastising they get from Isabelle, for wasting her time with their ‘hormonal antics’.

 

The photos happen, eventually, and they come out great. Sure, Alec has a bit of glitter smeared on his cheek, and Magnus’ lapels aren’t ironed flat, but their brilliant smiles stand out beyond anything else.

 

With Magnus’ hand against his, and the phantom press of his kiss against Alec’s lips, Alec hardly has the mental space to spare for intrusive nerves.

 

He’s going to prom, with his boyfriend. And that’s all he gives a damn about.

 

* * *

  


There’s an arc of gold balloons at the entrance, announcing _PROM_ in a terribly cliché way. Students, and their dates file through the doors, colourful dresses sweeping against the gym floor, polished shoes tracking dust with each step forward.

 

Alec thought he’d hate it more than he does.

 

Magnus squeezes his hand as they pass through the doors, and Alec lets himself sway closer, shoulder bumping against Magnus’. He spots a couple off to the corner, the sight of which brings a hesitant smile and an underlying wave of peace. Helen Blackthorn is in the year above them, her pastel violet dress a gentle companion to her light blonde hair; her girlfriend Aline is brass and stubborn, a debate team captain who inexplicably melts in Helen’s presence, such as she is now, the taffeta skirt of her short black dress brushing against Helen’s own.

 

They were one of the first same-sex couples to be open without fear of their relationship, and quite a key component in Alec’s journey to being comfortable at school, himself.

 

“They’re very cute, together.” Magnus comments, his lips brushing against Alec’s cheek. “Like ruling princesses of the queer kingdom.”

 

Alec nods, tugging on Magnus’ hand to lead him towards the refreshments table. “I know it’s unlikely, but I kind of hope they manage to get the prom crowns. How amazing would that be?”

 

“So amazing that if it does actually happen, I may need to put trust in those strong biceps of yours to keep me upright.” Magnus winks as Alec hands him a red plastic cup, filled with punch that is surprisingly sober. “For health and safety, of course.”

 

Alec laughs, still amazed at how light he feels, now that he and Magnus are open with each other about their … love. “Of course.”

 

The song changes over, a tinkling introduction coming through the speakers that reminds Alec of the Disney marathons Isabelle used to drag him into.

 

_“Every day, before today, was never grey. It’s always black and white, until tonight, yeah.”_

Magnus takes Alec’s drink, relocating them both to the punch table, before holding out his hand, palm up. “May I have this dance?”

 

Alec swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and nods. “Absolutely.”

 

His hands are clammy, his shoes suddenly slippery on the gym floor, but Magnus’ smile is tender and encouraging, and even if by some fault Alec ends up stumbling, or falling over, he trusts that Magnus will catch him.

 

Or else, they’ll both fall down together.

 

_“My heart’s about to burst, you are the first to really know me.”_

Alec’s hands slide around Magnus’ waist, pressed against the small of his back, drawing him close. Magnus’ arms loops themselves around Alec’s neck, his fingers brushing against the nape. Their steps are slow and cautious, a dance all of their own, and the world falls away with each note that echoes around them.

 

“Do you ever feel like a song is so poignant that it must have been written for you?” Magnus whispers, brushing a kiss against Alec’s temple.

 

“For us.” Alec corrects, softly, resting his forehead against Magnus’.

 

_“There’s something about us, when we’re together…”_

 

“I love you,” A smile spreads without Alec being conscious of it. “I love you so much, Magnus Bane.”

 

Magnus’ eyes light up so bright, a power surge could cut the electricity without blacking out the gym. “I love you more than I ever thought it’s possible to love someone, Alexander. You’re my safe space, you’re – you’re the best part of my life.”

 

It’s all Alec can do, to close what distance remains between them, depending on actions where words are bound to fail. Life isn’t perfect, and they’ll no-doubt go through worse than they’ve ever faced yet, but they won’t be doing it alone.

 

Their friendship was strong enough to withstand anything, and they haven’t lost that by taking a step towards romance; if anything, their bond feels invincible.

 

So long as they have each other, nothing can stop them.

 

**Author's Note:**

>    
> the song that magnus and alec dance to is "colour" by todrick hall which I highly recommend <3
> 
> \--
> 
> links - for those interested:
> 
> twitter: [ninwrites](https://mobile.twitter.com/ninwrites) for fic stuff/updates/snippets + [malteser_24](https://mobile.twitter.com/malteser_24) for general fandom mess + small threads  
> tumblr:[here](https://ninwrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (and while you're there check out the [shfanficnexus](https://shfanficnexus.tumblr.com/), a collection of work by wonderfully talented and lovely writers <3 )
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> \- Nin ❤


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